


Peles

by LCWells



Series: Star Wars [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 13:53:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8374582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LCWells/pseuds/LCWells
Summary: An Imperial Captain named Crix Madine is following orders when he saves the life of the Alderaani ambassador, Dorris, when the major dam breaks above a city on Peles. What's unfortunate is that the dam was ordered destroyed by General Tarkin to frame the Pelesians for the murder of the Ambassador.





	

"Are we ready?" General Tarkin asked. 

"Lord Vader says he is ready, sir," his aide replied subserviently. "The ARMADA is heading for Mablus."

Tarkin's thin lips pressed together in annoyance but he restrained himself. The Sith lord liked to become personally involved, to see his plans carried out. Tarkin always preferred staying at a distance doing long-term planning, and then watching it unfold. 

They made an effective team.

Tarkin suspected the Emperor had thrown both of them together to complement each other and it had worked well. It would work today as well. Peles was going to learn a heavy lesson about supporting guerilla attacks on Imperial bases. The planet was occupied. They should curb their tendency to rebel. So many other planets had. 

What was going to happen at Mablus would be an example to them all. "Our bases have been evacuated?" he asked. 

"Most of our troops are deployed elsewhere now," the aide reported. "Out of reach of the operation. Those that are left -- "

"Will be martyrs to the attack and a reason for further crackdowns," Tarkin murmured, his tone satisfied. "The embassies have not been warned?"

"Only the Alderaani have any sizeable contingent, sir. I believe there are four diplomats on planet including Ambassador Aldrich Dorris."

"Dorris. A fine diplomat to be deployed to a troubled planet. Pity. We must send some kind of funeral note to Lord Bail. Mark that down."

"Yes, sir."

Tarkin nodded, studying the topographical hologram on the table. A huge river split into three at a rocky gorge. Dams on each of the rivers provide electricity for the sprawling city of Mablus. On the west and south side of the city were factories and living quarters for the workers; on the north and east, the ruling classes and foreigners. Two small spaceports, one commercial for the factories, one residential, sat at opposite ends of the city. 

A very segregated city except for one thing -- No one likes us here, thought Tarkin. The Imperial base was to the north of the city near to the Mablus dam. 

The captain studied the miniature starship which was Vader's Star Destroyer heading for the uppermost branch of the river. "He is implementing the first force barrier there?" he asked. It was upstream from the dam on that river. 

Tarkin nodded. He pointed to the dam marker. "The ARMADA does this one. The river will channel against the Mablus dam. Not enough to break it right away - the Pelesians are good builders but it will break. The TIEs will see to that."

"Won't that be obvious by the damage when it's investigated sir?" the captain asked. 

Tarkin knew that Conner was an intelligence operative straight from Coruscant and that it was his business to ask such impertinent questions. If he wasn’t so protected, he'd be on the Pelesian base at Tarkin's specific orders, tied up and gagged, but with full knowledge of his fate. 

Tarkin spread his hands. "There will be no proof to accuse us. Pelesian separatists -- rebels," he corrected himself, "blew up the dam and miscalculated the amount of water that they brought down on the city. The proof is being manufactured right now."

"I thought this was an Imperial lesson, sir," Conner asked in a puzzled tone. 

"That will come when we cleanse the other cities of the rebels in retaliation for the death of troops at the base." Tarkin waved his hand. The hologram became a globe showing other major cities, some glowing red. "Peles will understand what we're doing." 

"Alderaan may take offense at the death of their ambassador. "

"Dorris was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Pity. It happens in war," Tarkin replied. "And we are at war, Conner. I believe a rebellion may have tendrils in Alderaan. This will teach Prince Bail a lesson. Peles is not pacified enough for embassies."

*********

Captain Crix Madine of the Imperial Special Forces was standing in the front hall of a Pelesian home watching Dorris negotiating with the local chieftains about future trade. That was dependent on the peace in this sector of Mablus, and Madine was suspicious that that was going to happen anytime soon. Still it was nice to watch a professional diplomat at work.

Then again, there had been peace for almost half a standard year since the Pelesians had come around to an “Imperial peace.” _Which we implemented with lots of troops and lots of bombing,_ Madine thought, his impassive face hidden behind a dark mask. _I'm tired of this planet._

Dust sifted into the room through the open windows, and he wondered how the Ambassador was handling it. _He seems to be doing all right. This climate doesn't suit most people. Alderaan's a cold planet but Dorris likes this heat._

There was a steady murmur of comments in his ear from his troops who were staged around the building keeping an eye out for any trouble. 

Madine didn't expect any. Not just because his troops were deployed but because he had a good relationship with most of the Pelesians in this area. 

_Which means we stay out of their clan battles. It’s called practicing tolerance. I'm surprised the Ambassador is at this meeting. But Alderaani are pretty stubborn and Dorris is trusting himself to us - to me, actually. I'm honored if a bit confused._

Alderaan wanted a peace here on Peles. The planet made spaceship parts, and the Alderaani were thinking of expanding their shipping fleet. It all made sense.

_But why did he ask for me? I guess someone whispered in his ear that I might not shoot him accidentally?_

Madine was suspicious about the motives of everyone involved. Over the last few years he'd studied the political situation of the galaxy, going beyond HoloNet's resolutely upbeat reports, and he was convinced that something was going on: an attack on the Empire. 

Over the years he'd been part of the attacks on various pirate groups, and seen an increasing sophistication behind their attacks. Reports pointed out that Pelesian factories had provided much of the technology. 

_So we monitored their exports to see where it lead -- until General Tarkin ordered an attack to stop it all together. That’s what led to this occupation - situation_ , he corrected his thought hastily. What might be thought could too often come out in discussion and he'd learned years before to hold his tongue. _The parts went to Corellia, Dantooine, the Rim, everywhere. Even Alderaan. We lost a chance to find out who was supporting the pirates._

His reverie was interrupted by the high sonic hiss of TIE fighters going through the thick air outside. He tapped his comlink. "Amman? What's up?" he murmured. 

"Patrol, sir," came the bored voice. "Three TIES heading upriver towards our base."

Madine wondered where they'd land. The base didn't have a port large enough for three, and the spaceport on that side seem to be crammed with small local fliers. "Find out who they belong to, Amman."

"Yes, sir."

Madine's attention went back to Dorris. Standing by his side was his translator, Falena, and opposite them were three chieftains, all wearing their best. The oldest was a woman, Floant.

"The Fleet says that the TIEs' flights are routine, sir," Amman said unexpectedly. "How much longer are we going to be here?"

Madine grinned. There were only four of them on this trip, a sign of trust in these leaders, but Amman was on the roof in the heat. He was probably overheating despite his armor. "Just settling in, Amman. Maybe hours."

A muted groan was echoed by the others. Madine wondered if one was his own. He couldn't tell. He felt a bit numb. He had been on this damned planet too long, and he longed to see his wife, to have conversations that didn't deal with subduing the locals, to talk politics -- _but not with my wife. Jelda wouldn't talk about general politics. We wouldn’t be talking, we’d be having sex._

She was doing well back on the base, working with the new Supply general, Bonstable, rising in the civilian bureaucracy that supported the Empire. _I always knew she had it in her,_ he thought proudly. He could barely remember what she looked like, but he knew what she felt like, smelled like. His relationship with Jelda was more physical than mental. 

He shifted his stance and felt a wrapped package tucked inside his uniform. The small pot was a gift, something for a friend who had lost her husband in a spacing accident - _Six, eight, standard months ago, but I hope she won't mind. I just heard._ The small pot was all he could find worthy of her. He'd written a note on a piece of native paper and tucked it inside, just a friendly note saying he was sorry. 

He wanted to talk to her in person but it would cost a fortune to call across the galaxy. He couldn't afford it. 

He could imagine - hope - that the pot might make her smile.

A boom echoed across the rooftops, the city, and Madine looked up sharply. "Amman!"

"Sir, I don't know what that was, but it was loud," Amman. "Came from the north."

"Call the base and see if they have a report. I'll bring the Ambassador up and we'll be out of here now," Madine said. He tapped his mike. "Mr. Ambassador, we should be leaving."

"What was it, Captain?" Dorris asked, turning to face him. "That noise?" 

"I don't know, but I don't think you should be here, sir," Madine said. "I'll escort you back to the embassy."

"SIR!" Amman screamed. "SIR, there's a -- the base -- "

"AMMAN!" 

"The dam, sir! The dam has broken and it's flooding the city!"

Madine turned to the ambassador. "The dam has broken, sir -- "

"How? Nonsense," said the Pelesian leader, her Standard broken but understandable. She turned to the interpreter and chattered, waving her hands. 

The interpreter turned back to Dorris. "She says that the dam is triple-reinforced. There is no way it could be broken. The waters are at mid-level and even if released only the lowlands in the factory area is in danger of flooding. There is no danger."

Madine tapped his mike. "Chief Floant says it's okay."

"I can't reach the base, sir," Amman replied. "I can't reach the spaceport to the north either!"

"Something's wrong," Madine said to Dorris incisively. "We've lost contact with the base. It could be an attack. I want to return you to the embassy." The Alderaani buildings had reinforced walls there. 

Dorris frowned, but turned back. "Chief Floant, I must take the Captain's advice."

"So the Alderaani do the bidding of the Empire?" Floant asked snidely, looking from Dorris to the armored-clad Madine. "When will you trust us -- "

"Captain! Captain -- " Amman chattered in Madine's ear. "Explosions! Smoke. There's a wall of water coming our way!"

"What the hell?" Madine said aloud. "Water?"

The other five looked at him. The ground rocked beneath their feet. 

"Garter took the transport up, sir, just above the buildings. The river's flooding, smashing the buildings -- "

Madine didn't know what was going on, beyond disaster, but he wasn't going to wait to find out. "Amman, get that transport ready! Now!" Turning to Dorris and the others, he said, "We have to get out of here, via the roof. All of you!"

"Planning on arresting us?" Floant said raising her double-chins. 

"Saving your -- " Madine caught his temper, and took a deep breath. Respecting their dignity would take just a few seconds. "I will drop you at your headquarters, Chief Floant and all your assistants. But now, we must get to the roof!"

Dorris obviously picked up on the urgency in Madine's tone. "Lead the way." He indicated for the others to go first and after they went, he followed. Madine brought up the rear. 

When Madine pushed his way out on the roof, the transport was hovering over the flat surface. Garter had picked up the other two soldiers, and Amman was shoving the last of the Pelesians onto the small ship. Dorris was staring over the rooftops, his body stance rigid. 

Madine's gaze followed his. A mass of debris, turbulent, churning was coming their way borne by a flood of water that seemed like the nightmares he'd had when he was learning to swim. 

"How -- how?" Dorris asked spinning to him. "The rivers aren't that high! It's the dry season -- "

"If it's coming from that direction, it's coming from our base -- no, our base is gone," Madine said tersely. "The buildings will slow it, but we have to get out of here, Ambassador!"

"The others at the embassy -- "

"We'll never reach it in time. I'm sorry." Madine took his arm and shoved him on the transport. 

Amman held out his hand. "Not a lot of room left aboard, sir."

Madine grimaced and hauled himself aboard. "I'll fit even if I have to throw Floant out."

The transport rocked, then rose. Madine heard cursing from the cockpit. He tossed aside his helmet, and went forward.

Looking to the north, they saw what was facing them. Explosions and flying debris, screams that were muted by the sound of the wind and the transport's engines. 

Mobs of Pelesians were filling the streets, desperate for escape. There would be no saving them. 

"Get us up, Garter!" Madine growled into his comlink and the transport rose another few feet, then swerved, dipped and soared. It twisted as blocks of ferma-crete, and glass went flying into the air. It rattled and shook the transport. Madine hit the pressure screens to keep the debris out. The noise dropped immediately.

But there was a defining roar as something exploded across the city. Hot hair made the ships rock.

Madine muttered, "I didn't know they had generators there. Must be rebels." 

Dorris tapped him on the shoulder, and nearly got hit. Madine caught himself before the blow landed. 

The ambassador stepped back. His expression was war. "What’s going on, Captain?"

Madine shook his head, then grabbed at a handle as the transport swerved, grabbing Dorris’ arm before he tumbled across the room. "I don't know -- Garter!"

The transport swerved around a tall tower and fell. "Captain, come up here," Garter said tersely into Madine's ear. 

Madine pushed forward until he reached the cockpit. "What?"

"We need to set down so I can fix something," Garter said. "I'm setting on the embassy."

"Dorris will approve. What have you heard from the base - any base! Anyone?" Madine asked, trying to avoid looking at the swerving landscape as Garter dodged amid the smoke. It made him nauseous.

"Nothing. That's not right, sir," Garter said through gritted teeth. "What's going on?"

"Maybe the Alderaani might know," Madine said. "How long -- "

"30 seconds, sir. We should be out in a couple of minutes."

 _I hope,_ Madine thought studying the instruments. He knew enough to know that they were getting minimum data - no, no data from even the other bases on Peles. It was as if the city had been cut off. "I'll clear the way so you can get out fast."

Garter nodded. 

Madine went back to the hopeful faces that filled the cargo bay. "We're making a stop at the embassy, " he said baldly and held up a hand before anyone said anything. "Got to fix something. No time for visiting, Ambassador, unless you want to get off."

Dorris laughed. "No -- "

"Sir, we've got -- " Amman said over him, "more people! On the roof!"

The transport swerved around a tall building, then dropped, and landed heavily on the roof of the Alderaani embassy.

Three Alderaani ran for the door just as Garter exploded out of the cockpit, and they collided. 

One man was knocked to the ground. Garter ignored him running to the back, Madine following, Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dorris jump out and helped the others inside. 

_At least the bosses should be happy that I saved the Ambassador,_ Madine thought. _If we get out of here alive._ "What is it -- oh."

A chunk of concrete had put a dent in the cowling of one of the engines and something was wedged inside the navigation. Garter was yanking at it, cursing, ignoring the explosions on the other side of the protecting building and the smell of water and screams. 

Madine added his weight, and the concrete fell out, narrowly missing both men. 

Garter glared at it, then gave the cowling one wack. "Best we can do. Now I might be able to steer."

"Then let's get the hell out of here," Madine ordered. 

Both men ran to the doorway, feeling the building rock under them. This time it wasn't explosions, but the water that had finally hit this part of the city, swirling mountains of debris and dead bodies, dissolving the native buildings back to their native mud. 

The pilot headed straight to the cockpit, and Madine pulled himself into the now-crowded transport. He slammed his hand on the force shield button and the walls snapped back up, just as Garter took off. Madine tumbled into Dorris. Both men went down.

The protecting building crashed down where they'd been seconds before, shards of brick rattling the bottom of the transport.

Madine crawled over the ambassador, and headed for the cockpit. He ignored the Pelesians who were talking urgently among themselves, peering out the windows, and waving towards the water. Dorris was talking quietly to his people. The one who had run into Garter was prone on the deck, his leg being tended by an anonymous embassy official. 

Madine didn't disturb Garter, just looked over his shoulders at the disaster. The transport soared finally, up into the smoke, above the smoke and into the thinner air. 

Garter sighed in relief but didn't relax. "Captain?"

"Here," Madine said. "Good piloting, Garter."

"Thank you, sir. Where are we going?"

"You're not getting anything from anyone, including the bases for those TIEs," Madine said, noting the lack of movement on the communications display. "Head for Barica if you can get there." The small city was several hundred miles to the south. It was a mainstay for commercial travel. 

Madine turned and saw Dorris standing a few feet away. "We should be able to get you some kind of communication back to Alderaan, sir."

Dorris nodded, bracing himself against the wall. "Thank you, Captain. There's a consulate at Barica that will transmit the situation - whatever that is back to Alderaan."

Madine nodded. "Garter, put in the codes. I suspect your world will want to know right away that you're alive.

The tall Alderaani settled into the seat and keyed in a code after Garter opened a link. "I'll make sure they know you saved us all, Captain."

"Oh, don't," Madine said without thinking. "It was part of my duties, Ambassador. Nothing special needs to made of it."

Dorris smiled but didn't reply, as the communicator flickered and returned another code. "If there is anything that I can do for you, please ask."

Madine nodded but turned away to go into the main cabin. He was remembering the flight of TIEs, and the boom before the breaking of the damn. _Like shots hitting concrete. But why kill everyone on base?_ "The dam burst," he muttered under his breath, trying to reassure himself.

The Pelesians weren't about to let the canard about the dams stand. Floant cried, "That cannot happen!" as she surged to her feet. 

Anger surged through Madine, but he caught himself. This was not the time to have a fight with the Pelesians. _Especially since I don't know what's going on._ "I don't know what happened --" he saw the Pelesian didn't understand and Madine looked for the translator, Falena. She translated his words so he continued, "but we'll find out. Your city is gone."

"My forefathers are greeting my family," Falena said, her voice catching on the words. She added, "It is a common saying about death." 

Floant gave another flood of words, and the translator turned to Dorris who'd just come out of the cockpit, "She wants to know what will happen now."

Madine opened his mouth, then shut it. He wasn’t sure. 

"Tell her we'll drop her at Barica -- "

Falena shook her head vehemently. "That is not in our clan land, Captain! It is dangerous there for Chief Floant! Her clan is not welcome there."

"Her clan doesn't exist anymore," Madine said brutally. He was glad Falena hadn't passed it on, though she looked stricken. She and Floant were the same clan. "If we're lucky we'll get there -- what the hell?" 

The cabin was suddenly dimmed and the shaking stopped as if the engines had cut off. For a sickening instant, Madine thought that the power had died, and they were going to drop - and crash.

"Captain Madine!" Garter called. "We're getting pulled up, sir."

"Pulled up? Madine asked turning to him. 

"Yes, sir. By the ARMADA." The pilot turned to face him. "Lord Vader's in charge, sir. He is ordering us to come aboard."

Madine was chilled to the bone. He'd heard too many stories about Darth Vader. His ruthlessness was legendary. No one was even sure if he was human, though the rumor was that he was under all that leather and metal. Madine was lucky; he'd never served directly under him. 

"Of course. I mean…" Madine had never stuttered before, and hated that he was now. Never again. "Tell them we have the Pelesian chiefs from Mablus and all the members of the Alderaani embassy."

*********

Aboard the TREATY, Tarkin heard the reply and cursed softly under his breath. What was Vader going to do with his unexpected guests? They hadn't discussed this eventuality and that meant Vader was on his own until Tarkin arrived. 

Considerations of political ramifications, present and future, weren't Vader's strong point. He preferred brutal action. "Get my shuttle ready," Tarkin ordered his aide. "I'm going to the ARMADA."

**********

Madine had been aboard many Star Destroyers but he wasn't sure about what to do now that the transport had been drawn into the docking bay of one of the largest he’d ever seen. 

He jumped out looking for the Imperial Navy deck officer. The trim officer looked disdainful at his dirt-stained uniform, but when he met Madine's glare, his attitude changed becoming more respectful. They saluted each other. 

"I'm Captain Madine of the -- "

"Yes, yes, I was informed you were arriving," the officer interrupted. Madine automatically categorized his accent from Naboo. "Do you need any medical assistance?"

Madine glanced back. "Yes, one of the Alderaani has injured his leg. There was a lot of debris in the air. "

A shriek split the air, and the officer gaped at him for a second. Madine winced as Chief Floant jumped out of the transport, looked around, then headed for him, her face stormy. The other two chiefs followed with determined expressions

 _Where's that damned translator?_ Madine looked over Floant's shoulder but Falena was nowhere in sight. 

"Get the droid!" the desk officer snapped into a comlink, and three seconds later, a protocol 'droid came out of a doorway. He ordered it, "Tell them to shut up."

Madine could have told him that that wouldn't work. The Pelesians were nothing if not histrionic when negotiating, and Floant was one of the best. _Took me an hour to buy that pot from her clan. They wouldn’t shut up._ "What can you tell me -- "

"Will you shut up!" The officer ignored Madine's question as the Pelesians complaints grew louder. "Take them to the office over there!"

Floant reached forward and grabbed Madine's arms, gesturing. He instinctively froze. Floant didn't let go. 

"Go with her if it will shut them up," the officer said in disdainful exasperation. "Lord Vader will be here in a minute, and will want to speak with you."

 _Oh, great,_ Madine thought, pulling free and waving towards one of the small alcoves that he knew lined the docking bay. The Pelesians swept inside, the 'droid following behind. Madine took his helmet from Gartner, and followed. 

Just before he went in, he glanced back at the transport, and saw Dorris look out at the bay, frowning. Madine shook his head fractionally, and the Alderaani stepped back into transport. _Now why the hell did I do that?_ Madine scolded himself. _Dorris is safe. He's got diplomatic immunity._ Madine donned his helmet.

Inside the alcove, three Imperial troopers stood against the wall, their white armor contrasting with the steel gray walls. The robes of the Pelesians were vivid splotches of color. 

Floant turned on him furiously, then her gaze went over his shoulder. He heard footsteps. Madine stepped quickly out of the way as Lord Vader stalked in, followed by two other high-ranking officers from the Destroyer.  
Madine tried to make himself part of the wall. 

"You are Chief Floant of the Abanath tribe," Vader rumbled, his voice deep and resonating. "From Mablus."

"The dam… the dam could not break," she said, her courage growing as the other two chieftains murmured encouragement. The 'droid translated the impassioned words as a monotone. "What happened down here?"

"Rebels destroyed the dam," Vader said. "They wanted to wipe out the base."

 _Wrong. Peles’ rebels had been reined in by Floant and the others. The area was quiet enough for the Alderaani to set up shop. It’s a lie._ Madine didn't move or speak up. _It's not my business._

Astonishingly, Floant wouldn't accept Vader's statement. Her voice rose to a shriek.

Vader raised his hand and Floant took it as a gesture of reconciliation, which it would have been on Peles, and reached out. She clutched his leather-clad hand. 

Vader’s fist closed. 

Her voice cut off. She stepped back, her hand going towards her throat, then she collapsed, her neck snapping audibly. The other chieftains gaped at the body, then eyes rolling up, they collapsed as well, as Vader made a sweeping movement with his hand. 

Shocked to his core, Madine looked at the officers' faces and saw them undisturbed. The murder of the Pelesians didn't matter to them at all.

"Where are the others?" Vader rumbled. 

"In the transport, sir," one of his officers said. "Ambassador Dorris and his group." 

_And one Pelesian translator._

Madine didn't move. He hoped that he was going to be forgotten. 

He hadn't been. One of the officers looked over at him. "I believe this was the captain who brought them here."

Vader turned to Madine and Madine caught his breath. Vader was huge, imposing and terrifying. 

There was the sound of boots on an iron deck and Vader turned to the door. 

Madine felt a flush of relief, when he saw why Vader had swiveled. A general, surrounded by aides, entered the room. 

"General Tarkin," Vader rumbled. "Welcome to the ARMADA."

"Thank you. I see you've already taken care of the Pelesians," Tarkin said with warning in his tone. "What has happened to the Alderaani?"

"I was just going to see them," Vader said, his tone disdainful. He waved a hand to the troopers against the wall, then at the bodies. "Dispose of this." 

Glancing at Madine, he added, "That officer brought them aboard."

"My orders were to protect the Ambassador, sir," Madine said, hardly believing that he could speak. He was glad his tone was even and not too loud. 

Tarkin smiled slightly, turning back to Vader. "A loyal officer following his orders, Lord Vader. A good Imperial officer."

"These Alderaani are useless," Vader rumbled. "Better we deal with them -- "

"Their consulate on Barica is expecting their arrival," Tarkin cut him off. "I believe that they have already been in touch with Alderaan. Prince Organa has been informed. He personally wishes to assure himself of Ambassador Dorris' safety." 

His tone was a warning to Vader more than any of the words "Then we must return Dorris to Barica," Vader said, dissatisfied with the conclusion. 

"You there, Captain," Tarkin called. Madine brought his attention back to the situation in front of him. "Bring the Ambassador in here."

Madine gave a ghost of a breath of relief, and then stepped out of the way as several troopers carried the bodies of the Pelesians by him, crumpled bundles of flesh and fabric, finally silent. 

He walked out of the room, trying not to appear he was running. He didn't know how Tarkin had arrived, but apparently the general here to calm Lord Vader more than speaking with Dorris. _Is Vader is in charge here or General Tarkin?_

He flipped off his mask. "Ambassador," he called and Dorris appeared at the transport's doorway. "General Tarkin wishes to speak to you."

Falena came to the door, at the same time Madine arrived, and with one harsh thrust, he shoved her back into the transport out of sight. "Stay inside," he said coldly, pinning everyone with a glare. 

Amman and Garter looked startled, glanced at each other warily, then back at him, their expressions inquiring. 

"Troopers, keep everyone here!" Madine barked. "Ambassador?"

Dorris jumped down, and Madine grabbed his bicep, a movement that could be taken as helping the man land safely. "Mind your step," Madine said his tone neutral. 

"The chiefs -- "

"Are greeting their forefathers," Madine replied. Dorris' eyes widened, and he would have pulled his arm free but for the brutally hard hold Madine had on it. "Alderaan has been notified of your safety, Ambassador. I believe Prince Bail wishes to speak with you as soon as possible." 

He knew from Dorris' expression that the warning had been understood but the Ambassador's face smoothed into its diplomatic mask as Madine released him. "Thank you for your assistance, Captain."

Madine nodded and fell in step behind him. He stopped just inside the room where Tarkin and Vader were now talking vehemently in low tones, their assistants now lining the walls, their faces blank. 

Tarkin's smile as he turned was as insincere as Dorris'. "Ambassador, I’m glad you're safe."

"If not for your captain, we all would have died in Mablus," Dorris replied smoothly. "He looked after us very well."

Madine could have done without the compliment.

Tarkin eyed him speculatively for a second but addressed the ambassador. "I'm glad that we were able to assist you in this tragedy. You have no injuries?"

Madine remembered an injured man, but Dorris said, "None but some bruises. I should be happy to have Captain Madine's assistance -- "

"Captain…Madine…will come with me to report," Tarkin interrupted smoothly. "I believe that the captain’s pilot will fly you to Barica once Lord Vader’s officers confirm the transport’s ability."

Dorris turned to Vader, who nodded, but said nothing. If Madine could read his body language, the Sith was feeling as surly as a five-year-old. What did General Tarkin have on him? Madine didn't want to know. 

"That would be fine. Thank you," said Dorris.

"Sir, my troop is aboard the transport," Madine spoke up, startling himself. "My soldiers -- "

"They will escort the ambassador," Tarkin ordered. "Once down they report to nearest authority." Tarkin must have noticed his expression. With a hint of amusement in his voice as he continued, "Captain, please escort the ambassador back to the transport."

Dorris took his dismissal gracefully. "I hope you find out who destroyed the city and the dam, General."

"I'm sure the rebels will tout it as a great accomplishment," Vader rumbled dismissively. "And we will crush more of Peles if they continue to rebel against the government."

Dorris blinked. "Rebels? It was…ah. Yes, of course, it must be the rebels."

Madine's expression almost slipped out of his control. That didn't even sound like something Dorris would say. The Alderaani didn't sound like himself.

Tarkin frowned at Vader. "Safe trip, Ambassador."

Madine noticed Vader unclench his hand, and Dorris seemed to relax fractionally as he turned. Madine knew intuitively that Vader had done something to the Alderaani but he didn't know what. He didn’t want to know. What he wanted to get away from this ship.

He followed Dorris to the transport where Garter was standing in the doorway. "You're escorting the ambassador down to Barica, then report to the nearest base," Madine said succinctly looking at each one. "I've enjoyed working with you."

"You're not coming with us, sir?" Amman asked looking worried. Garter frowned and crossed his arms. The other two were unhappy as well from their expression. 

"General Tarkin wishes a report," Madine said warningly, "You will complete this mission, keeping Ambassador Dorris and all his staff safe until they are at the consulate." They nodded agreement. He'd miss them. For some reason, Madine suspected he'd never work with any of them again. "Get aboard."

"Captain," Dorris asked, "will you be safe?'

"I have nothing to fear from General Tarkin," Madine said his voice almost hiding his own insecurity. Then with a whisper, he said, "Will you do me a favor?"

Dorris smiled. "You've saved my life twice today. What do you want?"

Madine pulled a small circular bowl out of his jacket. It was seven inches across with a small opening. The upper half was deep cobalt with tiny sparks of gold, the bottom a reddish glaze. A thin silver band ran around the middle. "Will you send this for me to -- the address is inside. Most of the address - I don't know the full address." He stopped, thinking this was a bad idea. "But she should be easy to find."

"Your wife?" Dorris took the small pot and hid it in his coat.

"No, just a friend. Her husband died -- " Madine said, his attention distracted by the sound of boots coming up behind them. "Good travels, Ambassador."

"Come see me on Alderaan, Captain," Dorris said. "When you visit, my home is open to you."

Madine knew it was a huge invitation. Alderaani of that class didn't invite Imperial officers - any military - into their homes. "I'm honored."

Dorris nodded and climbed aboard.

Madine backed off so it could take off. He hoped it would make it safely back to Peles. He wouldn't put it past Vader to blow it up on the way down. 

Coming up beside him, the deck officer said officiously, "General Tarkin has ordered you to his shuttle, Captain. Come along." 

Madine followed. Maybe the general would have some kind of liquor on board, or they'd give him a drink. He needed it.

*******

Viceroy Bail Organa turned the pot over and over in his fingers, admiring the sparkle of the gold. He sat in his private office on Alderaan's capitol, which was now buried in winter ice and snow. 

Dorris sat across the table, relaxed and confident. "I'm sure that Madine saw the murders. He could be brought in front of the Senate -- "

"If you think that an Imperial officer is going to speak against Darth Vader and General Tarkin, you are out of your mind," Bail commented. "You would be asking him to commit suicide if he even lived long enough to testify. The Senate is owned by the Emperor."

The former ambassador looked dissatisfied. "They have dug thousands out of the mud on Peles, including everyone on that base. There should be justice -- "

"The death count on the base was suspiciously low," Bail said, turning the vase over. "Tarkin didn't wish to lose too many troops in this little charade."

"Lord Bail, I don’t know why I agreed with Lord Vader when he said it was rebels. It was the TIES – “

“Don’t feel bad, Aldrich. I’ve seen Lord Vader compel people before to do what he wanted,” Bail commiserated. “The Pelesians are continuing to supply us with what we need, but much more carefully. Much more discreetly. I've taken your advice on Falena. She will stay here, protected from the clans, since she has no relatives left on Peles. What about this bowl?"

"I promised I would send it on."

"Have you looked at the name?"

"Yes, Viceroy. That's why I requested this interview," Dorris said. "I believe you know her."

Bail smiled as he pulled out the note that had been tucked inside and read it. "Not very romantic, but then again, why should it be? I think he could have been more specific as to the address."

"He was probably planning to find the exact address but he didn't have time before dam ruined his plans," Dorris said. He rubbed his arm as if he was still bruised from Madine’s grip. "I haven't heard what happened to him."

"His name hasn't turned up on any casualty lists," Bail said. "He is probably still with General Tarkin aboard the TREATY."

Dorris rubbed his face with both hands, then ran his fingers through his silver hair. "I hope so. I invited him to visit if he comes Alderaan. I liked him - despite his being an Imperial officer." 

"I never thought you'd say that!" Bail laughed. "You hate the Empire."

"Madine has possibilities. He might…" Dorris hesitated, then looked around. "He seems flexible."

Bail said, turning the small pot over and over in his large hands, his eyes watching the sparkle. "I have one more task for you, Dorris."

"Yes, milord?"

"I want you to go to Chandrila and deliver this in person."

******

Aldrich Dorris sent a message requesting a private meeting with former senator Mon Mothma and had received an invitation, but he hadn't thought it would be at a formal reception. He told his embassy-assigned driver to await him and made his way to the front door. 

He hesitated on the doorstep where the double-doors were wide open. _The Senator has friends from all over the galaxy,_ he mused seeing different races and beings in the spacious rooms of the house. There was a babble of different languages and accents. 

A tall elegant woman with a crown of deep brown hair with gold highlights came of the crowd to greet him. "Ambassador Dorris?"

"Yes," he said politely, holding out his hand for the polite fingertip touches. "I am here to see the Senator?"

"I am Ceeli Montesi, the Senator’s secretary," the woman replied in pure Alderaani. From the north-western coast of the main continent, he noted automatically. How had she come be here? "Please follow me. The Senator will be with you in a minute." 

She led the way through the chattering guests, each of which silently noted his passing and the small box in his hand. Finally, they came into a small conservatory filled with huge ferns and perfumed candles, but empty of beings.

Montesi turned. "Please wait here. Maybe a Terlich, Ambassador?"

His mood lightened at the offer of one of his favorite drinks. "I would love one."

She smiled and went out. 

Dorris found a comfortable seat in a padded chair close to a bank of windows. Force screens rather than glass provided privacy on a clear view of a garden where aliens and humans strolled and talked. 

_The Senator has high-powered friends. Isn't that the trade delegate from Naboo? I recognize that Senator as well, and half of these people have clan marks from a dozen planets. What is going on?_ Dorris looked at the box in his hand and wondered, as he had on the trip here, what Prince Bail had in mind sending Dorris all this way. Did he expect Dorris' story to move Mon Mothma to action? What was the connection between the Imperial captain and the Senator? 

A flash of color, gold and green, by the door, and he rose turning to greet the slender woman who came in. Her aide followed, carrying a tray with two drinks. 

Of course this must be the memorial reception. Mon Mothma still wore formal mourning for her husband, Jei Gleiv. "Ambassador Dorris? What does Alderaan want with me?" she asked settling in a chair opposite his.

"I bring the greetings of Viceroy Organa, Senator," Dorris replied responding to her smile. "And a story."

She shook her head as she took a glass from Ceeli. "No longer a Senator, not for many years."

He looked out at the crowds. "I suspect that your guests don't believe you've retired." He accepted the other glass from Ceeli, shooting her a pleased smile. She returned it fractionally, then sat down slightly to one side, watching them both. _Is she Prince Bail’s spy? Do I care?_

Mothma laughed. "I have many contacts, and this is Jei's final memorial. What is this about, Ambassador?"

"I was asked to bring this to you, and to tell you the story behind it." He held out the box. 

She unwrapped it delicately, setting the blue wrapper on the small table beside her. She rubbed her finger over the pitted upper half, the gold sparks glittering in the room's light. "Lovely."

"And now one of a kind," Dorris said, his voice hardening. He regretted it as she looked up surprised. "Let me tell you what happened."

By the end, her hands lay still on the pot. Her expression had grown serious, and slightly abstracted at moments. Then she looked away, out at the terrace. "Peles was a disgrace," she said in a harsh tone. 

Then, she looked aside, over her shoulder, and anxiety filled her face for just a moment. Mon Mothma gave herself a slight shake. The expression immediately smoothed away. "You're sure it was the TIEs that took out the dam?"

Dorris appreciated all too well the automatic wariness that anyone felt when condemning any Imperial action. The Senator was very discreet. "I studied the reports released on it,” he assured her, “and the only way the dam could have broken was with direct force - the kind of force the Pelesians don't have access to. The water that came down was outsized. It must have been channeled. It had to be done on purpose, Senator.” Dorris paused to let the truth sink in, then added, “This is Prince Bail's message to you, Mon Mothma. He invites you to come to Alderaan for a visit."

She ran her right hand around the bowl opening again, her eyes not meeting his. "I have to finish things up here, but …. I think I could visit Alderaan within the Standard year. Or is it more urgent?"

"I don't know what is on Lord Bail's mind," Dorris said, though he could guess. Insurrection? _Not while Lord Vader is there._ "But may I take that as a promise, Senator?"

She looked up; a smile had returned and it was warmer than just polite. "Yes, Ambassador, that is a promise. Please inform Bail that I will visit when I'm free to. I have been offered various jobs and one of them might well take me to Alderaan."

"Returning to government, Mon Mothma?" Dorris asked, unexpected hope in his voice. "I'm sure Chandrila would welcome you back."

"I can only hope so. Thank you, Ambassador." She stood, the gift still in her hand, and he rose in return. "I must return to my guests. Please enjoy the reception."

"Thank you, Senator." He stood, acknowledging the dismissal and watched her leave. 

After she'd disappeared, he looked over at the aide who hadn't followed her mistress. "Will she come?" he asked in Alderaani.

Montesi gave a tiny shrug. "She said she will but the mourning here is long…and tedious. When she's free,” the woman almost sighed, “She’s not so easy to predict. But I think she'll go for her best option."

"She can not possible need credits -- "

"No," came the succinct correction. "Inclination.”

He accepted her escort to the main room, but felt it best that he find his way to the door alone since he wasn’t here on official business. "Thank you, Mistress Montessi." He signaled for his driver, still wondering what the Viceroy had had in mind with the invitation, and now what the Senator would do with that opportunity. 

********

Inside, in her private study, Mon Mothma ran her hands over the bowl, knowing it was unique; it came from a culture now buried forever by the Empire. _Palpatine did this,_ she told herself, _and I can't hide any longer, hide in fear of his assassins._

_He thinks I was permanently silenced when I retreated here. If he believes that then he didn't kill Jei. It was just an accident as everyone has said it was, no some private revenge._

_I wish I believed that._

Mothma closed her eyes. She wanted to put that thought safely away, but she just couldn’t ignore this government anymore. _We have to rebuild the alliance that was against the Separatists, now against that monster on Coruscant. Jei is gone now. I can speak up again in public. Yes, Bail,_ she told herself and her friend, _I'll visit you and Breha on Alderaan. We have to make plans._

At that thought, she glanced around, as she had during her conversation with Dorris. She’d quelled all that political thinking during her marriage, partly to grant what her husband had wanted. But now, Jei was dead and there was no one who could, through love, make her hold her tongue. _I must be discreet. I must be careful._

Mothma shook off the past, and remembered the bowl. Her fingers traced the curl of the dark lip again, lingering over the sparkles, then her fingernails caught on something inside. She pulled out a small message.

**I just heard. I'm sorry. Crix.**

Her hands shook. She put the pot down on the table to keep from dropping it. She'd become so wrapped up in the injustice of Peles, she'd forgotten the hero of the piece. _Crix._ Mothma smiled. _Thank you, Crix._ She’d include the man in today’s prayers for this unexpected present, so precious because it was for her, not a memory for Jei. 

_It will take a long time to build a new galactic system._ Mothma paced the room, her mind racing. _And if Palpatine should think I'm alive again –_

She flinched physically. Some movement outside her window caught her eye and reminded her of why she’d retreated to her study. The memorial was almost ready for the speeches. 

_Yes, that was what it was like. Like being dead. Then three years ago, Crix stirred me up and I awoke. Jei was too busy with his creations to see this. And now I'm free -- but Jei, oh, Jei._ Freedom suddenly felt cold without him. Mothma glanced down at the pot. And the chances that Crix Madine would leave the Empire are as great as my becoming Palpatine's bride. 

She reread the message, and felt a rush of gratitude. _He remembered. And I'll remember him every time I look at this. Not the deaths - you, Crix. You have to stay alive and I have to see you again._

"Ma'am?" a familiar voice quietly said behind her. "The ceremony awaits you."

Mon Mothma folded the note and tucked it up her left sleeve. She permitted herself a slight sigh. "The final one, Ceeli. Are they in the main room?"

"Yes."

"Then let's be finished with this."

**Author's Note:**

> This story was sparked by a graphic in the Washington Post of the Mosul Dam in Iraq. The graphic made it clear what would happen to Baghdad and the Green Zone if the dam broke.


End file.
